


Spoil the Pleasure

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Body Modification, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Transformation, Yandere vibes, demonic transformation, putting the Apathy there because the random demon was heavily based off of one, watching someone get murdered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: "Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening."  — Maya Angelou
Relationships: Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Barbatos/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. Spoil the Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodofthepen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofthepen/gifts).



When Ambrose came to terms with the fact that they were attending school in literal Hell, they _also_ had to come to terms with the fact that although most demons agreed with Diavolo’s plan to unite the three realms, there were plenty of demons who wanted nothing more than to see Ambrose dead.

For a brief moment, the memory of Barbatos wrapping a tarnished silver spoon with a napkin and slipping it into his tailcoat in a single fluid motion and an uncharacteristically stormy countenance floated to the surface of Ambrose’s mind, and they forced themself to ignore the feeling of dread that settled to the bottom of their stomach like a rock.

Unfortunately, the resurfacing of past murder attempts wasn’t the only source of Ambrose’s dread. The _other_ source came from the student that had managed to cage them against the wall with its too-long arms on their way to the Demon Lord’s castle to have tea with Barbatos. The hallways of RAD were completely empty, which wasn’t exactly the best setting to be found when their life was potentially in danger.

Its demon form was a grotesque, emaciated thing—with black skin stretched over a tall, gangly skeleton with pointed legs, arms and clawed fingers that were long enough that they’d drag against the pristine tiled floor, and a skull-like face with a gaping maw and empty eye sockets that faintly glowed red. Black mist rolled off of it in waves, pooling at its feet for a few moments before dissipating and repeating the cycle over and over again.

“Excuse me,” Ambrose told the demon, offering a polite (if not a bit chilly) smile to the demon towering above them. “I’m trying to get somewhere and I don’t want to be late. I’d appreciate it if you let me go.”

 _“And why would I do that, little human?”_ the demon’s voice suddenly rang in their head, raspy and grating against the far corners of their brain. Ambrose did a double-take as they scanned the demon again. Its mouth hadn’t moved, they realized. Not that knowing that changed anything about their current situation. _“You’ve only lasted this long because the rest of my brethren are_ cowards. _”_

“And you’re different, cornering me with no witnesses around?” they pointed out, somehow managing to keep their voice even as they spoke.

 _“I’m doing what needs to be done!”_ it roared, causing Ambrose to flinch slightly as the sudden increase in volume made the demon’s voice rattle painfully through her skull. The pouring of black mist briefly increased along with the demon’s outburst, though it was just as quick to revert back to its original output. It lapped at Ambrose’s ankles, snaking beneath the slacks of their RAD uniform and sending shivers up their spine.

The demon snarled in Ambrose’s head, elongated claws digging into the walls as though to further prevent them from escaping. _“The Devildom has been turned on its head because of you. I’m going to remedy the situation,”_ it said, the glowing red light within its jaw and eye sockets becoming brighter and began pulsating. Ambrose resisted the urge to fix their jacket or bite the inside of their cheek. It wouldn’t take long to get help—all they had to do was call Mammon, and he’d be there in an instant to ensure their safety.

At the lack of any significant reaction from Ambrose, the red glow intensified. _“What, you think you’re too good to talk to those who are lower than you? I’m going to tear you to bloody_ shreds _before you get the chance to—”_

“Get the chance to what?”

The demon whipped around, and there stood Barbatos, in his full demon form but looking hilariously short compared to the taller demon caging Ambrose against the wall. Despite that, the demon practically leaped away from Ambrose, clasping its hands behind its back and standing straight as a rod.

_“Barbatos, I—”_

“Please, elaborate,” the butler said, the placid smile never leaving his face as he took a step towards the demon, who in turn took a step back. “What would you have done to Ambrose had I not arrived?”

_“I—I was just—”_

“Do I need to report this to Lord Diavolo?” he asked, taking another step towards the taller demon. “He’s attending a meeting at the moment, which means I’ll have to take matters into my own hands so I don’t disturb him.”

The demon’s spindly body somehow became even _more_ rigid, the red glow of its sockets visibly shrinking, similar to how human pupils contracted after being exposed to bright light. _“No, sir! Nothing to report, no reason to disturb him!”_

The serene smile on Barbatos’ face darkened by an almost microscopic amount. “Good. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to escort you to the dungeon, and you’ll stand trial for attempting to harm a fellow student,” he informed the other demon. “In my lord’s attempt to be more humane, the student council will decide your fate, rather than executing you right away.”

If the demon had any eyes to begin with, Ambrose was certain they would’ve narrowed sharply at the steward’s command. Nevertheless, they watched as the demon began to shrink, with limbs jerking and bones snapping loudly into place until it had become a humanoid male, with black skin stretched so taut they could see the bones underneath it. The skull mask and glowing red sockets remained unchanged, and the demon was now donning the standard RAD uniform and a wide-brimmed hat that wasn’t unlike the ones sported by the various Little D’s Ambrose found drifting around the school and the castle.

Ambrose had seen the brothers transform several times before: their clothes usually changed first to suit their new forms, and then horns grew from their heads with a noise that sounded like branches growing from trees at a hyper-accelerated rate. Then, their wings or tails sprouted from their backs as their flesh literally tore itself apart to accommodate the new appendages. 

Watching _this_ demon transform, however, was a new kind of unsettling, and Ambrose had to keep themself from flinching every time they heard something crack audibly within the demon’s body. At least the brothers still maintained their human forms as they transformed; this demon had barely been human to begin with, which was frightening in its own right.

Once the process was done and over with, Barbatos jerked his head in the direction of the castle. “Follow me, please,” he said. And as his gaze briefly moved towards Ambrose, they could’ve sworn they saw his expression soften for _just_ a moment. “You as well, Ambrose.”

Only when Ambrose gave him a nod and moved to stand beside him, did Barbatos turn sharply on his heel and start walking, forcing the demon to remain in front of them as they went. After a few moments of tense silence had passed, Ambrose felt something wrap gently around their wrist, barely felt through the fabric of their school jacket: a split-end tail, tipped in a beautiful shade of teal that turned dark green towards the base, where it protruded from the end of Barbatos’ spine.

Ambrose quickly spared a glance at the demon steward from the corner of their eye. He was still sporting that same unperturbed smile, but his gaze was firmly trained on the back of the demon who’d tried to kill them. Suddenly, Barbatos’ gaze briefly flickered towards Ambrose, then back to the demon in front of them. Then, while his expression remained entirely unchanged, they felt his tail tighten, then loosen around their wrist.

Against all odds, Ambrose somehow managed to stifle a smile that threatened to cross their face. He was absolutely _adorable_. Even though he’d probably deny it once they were alone.

The three of them did eventually reach the dungeon, where Barbatos finally uncoiled his tail from Ambrose’s wrist and produced a ring of keys from his coat. He walked over to one of the empty cells, using one of the keys to unlock it before taking a step back, letting the door swing open on its own as he gestured towards it with his free hand.

The demon’s gaze darted between the empty cell, Barbatos, Ambrose (who had moved to stand between him and the butler, but far away from the former in case he tried to pull a last-minute stunt), and back again. When Barbatos’ smile turned cold, however, and the room temperature seemed to drop by several degrees, the demon finally entered the cell, sitting on the metal bench with a slouched back as the butler pushed the door shut, inserting the key once more to lock it.

“Come,” Barbatos said, finally turning back to Ambrose and gesturing to the exit. “I’ll tend to any wounds you might have.”

Ambrose knew they didn’t have any wounds. Barbatos knew they didn’t have any wounds. But he wouldn’t—he _couldn’t_ give them outward displays of affection, however subtle. Not when someone who’d just tried to take Ambrose’s life was sitting right there.

“Alright,” they said, making their way to the exit but deliberately slowing their pace by just a little so Barbatos could catch up to them. It didn’t take him long, and the steward waited until Ambrose had crossed the threshold of the dungeon and was back within the safety of the castle before closing the dungeon door with a light press of a gloved hand. Finally, Barbatos turned to them and offered the crook of his arm, and Ambrose automatically looped their arm through his—a practiced motion after having done it countless times before.

As the two of them walked through the many winding corridors of the Demon Lord’s castle, Ambrose could see Barbatos revert back to his human form from the corner of their eye. The skeletal appendages resembling wings retreated back into his skull, and his split-end tail merged into one and withdrew into his spine. When Ambrose finally turned their head to fully look at him, Barbatos’ ruffled shirt and pleated tailcoat had already reverted back to his uniform.

It was odd, they mused, returning the small smile Barbatos gave them before turning back to look ahead of them. The brothers, as well as Diavolo, were all _incredibly_ loud while they transformed. Barbatos, on the other hand, was almost completely silent whenever he changed into his demonic form, with only a few noises caused by the rustle of fabric, or the movement of new limbs appearing or disappearing in accordance to his form.

Perhaps it had something to do with his status as the “Most Powerful of All Beings”, as well as the fact that he seemed to have a clear sense of… _otherness_ about him. He always felt a little out of place compared to the other inhabitants of the Devildom—and that was already saying a _lot_.

Barbatos led them to the parlor, where he unhooked his arm from Ambrose’s in order to open the door and step aside for them to enter before him. They automatically walked over to one of the plush chairs pushed into the table, setting their bag down next to it as they seated themself at the table.

As soon as they did, they heard the parlor door swing shut behind them, and craned their head to watch Barbatos cross the room in a few long strides and stopped in front of them, kneeling down to gently grasp Ambrose’s chin and tilt their head this way and that.

“Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly at the mere _thought_ of the lecherous demon that’d tried to lay his hands upon them.

“He didn’t do anything, I promise,” they replied, a quiet laugh escaping them as Barbatos finally lowered his hand to raise a single brow.

“You’re taking this remarkably well,” he mused.

“You forget I’ve had more than one near-death experience, Barbatos,” Ambrose reminded him with a teasing smile.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he replied somewhat dryly, his expression finally softening as he offered them a quiet smile.

The intended effect was only partially successful, however—when Ambrose looked a bit harder, they could see Barbatos’ eyes were sharply focused, and there was still an inordinate amount of _rage_ simmering beneath the surface.

“ _Barbatos_ ,” they reprimanded him somewhat teasingly, the amused smirk curling at their lips causing some of the tension to leave Barbatos’ shoulders, and the anger in his eyes died down by just a little. ”Just because you can see into the future doesn’t mean you can stop every bad thing from happening.”

When Ambrose saw a muscle in Barbatos’ jaw tighten, worry took hold of them for a brief, painful moment—had they upset him somehow?

Their worry dissipated, however, when they saw his shoulders sag along with the tired exhale that escaped his lips, his head hanging for a moment before he lifted his gaze to look at Ambrose with nothing but affection in his forest-green eyes.

“No, I suppose not,” he conceded, lacing his fingers with theirs. “But at the very least, I can do my best to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Try not to overdo it,” Ambrose reminded him. “Promise?”

This caused Barbatos to chuckle quietly, and he leaned forward to ghost his lips across their cheek.

“I promise.”


	2. Another Ending

_“I’m going to tear you to bloody_ shreds _before you get the chance to—”_

“Get the chance to what?”

The demon whipped around, and there stood Barbatos, in his full demon form but looking hilariously short compared to the taller demon caging Ambrose against the wall. Despite that, the demon practically leaped away from Ambrose, clasping its hands behind its back and standing straight as a rod.

_“Barbatos, I—”_

Before the demon had the chance to respond, the butler rushed forward too fast for Ambrose to track. Then, without warning, Barbatos plunged his hand through the demon's chest. His hand emerged from its back, completely covered in blood before pulling back, which was when Ambrose saw he was holding a strange, pulsating black blob.

Ambrose could only stare with wide eyes at the shriveled black thing sitting in the palm of Barbatos' gloved hand. As much as they wanted to, they couldn't look away. Not even as the other demon slumped forward, its knees buckling before it hit the floor face-first, its blood black and thick like tar as it slowly pooled from the gaping hole and spread across the floor.

Just as the demon's blood was about to reach Barbatos' immaculately shined shoes, he stepped away from the corpse and dropped the demon's heart unceremoniously to the floor, where it landed in the puddle of blood with a painfully audible _splat_. He then peeled off his bloodstained gloves and abandoned those, as well, pulling out a fresh pair from within his coat and tugging them over his exposed hands.

Ambrose could only watch as Barbatos approached them and wrapped his arms around their waist, gently tugging them close and pressing his forehead against theirs.

“Are you alright?” he murmured against their skin.

“I’m fine,” they reassured him quietly, not daring to look at the demon’s corpse and away from Barbatos’ eyes, still clouded over with rage that was slowly, but surely beginning to give way to concern.

“Do you need anything? Do you need to lie down?” he pressed, pulling back slightly to stare into the blue-green of Ambrose’s own gaze, as though he’d be able to tell if they were lying if he looked hard enough.

“I’m fine, I promise,” they repeated, giving him a faint smile as they pressed their forehead against his once more. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“You could never be,” he promised, the small, not-quite-there smile he always seemed to wear softening into something that actually resembled affection as he lifted a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Ambrose’s ear. “Do you feel well enough to continue?”

“Yes, I do,” they promised. “Shall we get going?”

“Of course,” he said, and as he offered his arm, bent at the elbow, Ambrose automatically looped their arm through it, allowing Barbatos to lead them through the castle.

As they began walking, Ambrose craned their head to look back at the pool of blood behind them, quickly turning their head before they found themself focusing on the other demon’s corpse for too long.

Barbatos caught them staring, and he waited for Ambrose to look back at him with a furrowed brow before telling them, “Allow me to escort you to the parlor first. Your safety takes precedence over a simple mess.”

“…Alright,” they responded after a moment, a slight frown on their face. “Can we talk when we get there?”

A frown also made its way onto Barbatos’ face, though it was only the tiniest bit more noticeable than Ambrose’s. “Of course.”

The remainder of the walk to the parlor was filled with a tense sort of silence, which was only heightened when Ambrose realized Barbatos had yet to revert back to his normal form, despite the fact that the spindly demon from earlier had been dead for several minutes now.

The two of them finally reached the parlor, and it was only until Ambrose entered and sat down at the table, did Barbatos’ wing-like protrusions and tail finally recede back into his body, and his clothes reverted back into his RAD uniform. He walked around the table and pulled out the chair across from Ambrose, sitting down and lacing his fingers together on the table.

“You wanted to talk,” he said, his expression unreadable as ever.

Ambrose nodded stiffly, taking a moment to gather their thoughts as they absently reached up to touch their hair. “Did you really have to kill him?” they asked.

Barbatos’ frown returned. “No.” Although he kept his tone even, if Ambrose listened closely, they could hear a faint note of terseness in his words. ”Regardless, I’m going to clean up the mess and report everything to Lord Diavolo. He’ll sentence me with some sort of punishment, and I will serve it diligently and to the best of my ability until it’s done.”

“I could…vouch for you, if you’d like,” they offered with a furrowed brow. “You were protecting me from a would-be murderer. And I would think you’re too valuable to Diavolo for him to punish you for very long.”

The frown on Barbatos’ face morphed into a small, dark smirk as a quiet scoff escaped his lips. “My lord is cleverer than anyone gives him credit for,” he reminded them. ”Except for Lucifer, perhaps. Still—whatever punishment he assigns me doesn’t have to be long for it to be effective.”

Ambrose felt their stomach churn unpleasantly at the implications of Barbatos’ statement. “Which is _why_ I should be there when you tell Diavolo,” they insisted again. “Method aside, you saved my life—I would think that warrants a lighter sentence, given how valuable Diavolo makes me out to be.”

The dark smile on Barbatos’ face softened once more. “I appreciate your offered assistance,” he replied quietly, reaching over to take Ambrose’s hand and ghost his lips over their knuckles. “But no amount of vouching will change the fact that my actions went against everything my lord has been trying to eradicate. Besides, we didn’t come here to talk about Diavolo—we came here to talk about _you_ ,” he reminded them with a gentle smile. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Kind of awful,” they admitted, letting out a somewhat forced laugh as they gently pulled their hand away to tug at their jacket. “He had it coming, but…I wish you hadn’t resorted to violence so quickly. I know you meant well, but…can you not do it again, unless it’s…”

Ambrose paused for a moment, their fingers remaining curled around the lapels of their jacket. Their mind flickered to the attic room, with its soft lighting and inviting atmosphere that wildly contrasted what had happened there—when Barbatos had sent them back in time, when they had managed to open the attic door, only for Belphegor to strangle them to death, _when they saw their own dead body lying on the floor—_

Ambrose resisted the urge to brush their fingers across their neck, instead choosing to tighten their grip on their jacket. ”Just don’t do it again, unless you absolutely _have_ to. Please.”

The gentle smile that had crossed the steward’s face fell once more, but the frown that replaced it was more thoughtful than legitimately upset as he sat there and mulled over Ambrose’s words for a few silent moments.

Finally, he rose from his chair and walked around the table to stand before Ambrose, taking their hands in his and gently tugged them to their feet, before wrapping his arms around their waist a second time and pressing his forehead against theirs.

And when Ambrose looked into his eyes once again, they didn’t see affection, or wrath, or even the casual self-assuredness he was so famous for. What they did see, however, was a very prominent sense of _fear_.

There was also something else.

 _Resolve_.

“I’ll do my best to respect your wishes,” he whispered, his voice unwavering despite its lack of volume, “and do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Ambrose let out a quiet sigh of relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by Barbatos as he let the corner of his mouth twitch in the tiniest of amused smirks. However, even as they let a soft smile cross their face, they couldn’t quite ignore the tiny, foreboding voice in their head, whispering that Barbatos was saying something else entirely, that they should be worried and they should ask him what he really meant.

Still, not wanting to ruin the moment, they simply closed their eyes and said—

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
